Page 109 of Stalkers Anonymous

Best regards,

Jack Morrison

A second email from Jack’s personal address comes through a minute later.

I’m sorry. I hope we can work things out once you’ve pulled your shit together. I’m here whenever you need me.

I set the phone face down on the coffee table and stare at the ceiling.

Fuck.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Hailey

I’m still sitting on the floor with my back against the door when I hear Rachel’s hurried footsteps on the stairs. My whole body feels numb, like I’m watching everything happen to someone else.

“Hailey, it’s me,” Rachel calls, knocking softly on the door. “Let me in.”

I force myself to stand on wobbly legs and unlock the door. Rachel takes one look at my face and immediately pulls me into a tight hug.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Cole was here.” I say it into her shoulder.

She goes still, her entire body stiffening immediately.

“He was here here? In the building?”

“At the door. Five minutes ago. Maybe ten. I don’t know. He left when I asked him to.”

Rachel pulls back enough to scan my face, her ER-coded brain clicking into place the same way mine does at triage. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?”

“No. Nothing like that. He—” I stop. I don’t know how to start this sentence. “He told me some things. A lot of things. Can we sit down? I need to sit down.”

“Couch. Now. I’ll get you water.”

She steers me to the couch and disappears into my kitchen. Chewy comes out from wherever he’s been hiding and scrambles into my lap. I press my face into his fur and try to breathe.

Rachel comes back with water, then drapes a blanket around my shoulders. She sits on the coffee table facing me and puts her hands on my knees.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Start wherever you want to start.”

The story comes out in pieces.

“He told me he’s been watching Lars.” I default to the sanitized version of events. I don’t know why, but I don’t fight my instincts. “Since he keyed my car. He said he had a way to track where Lars was, and that’s how he knew he was in the neighborhood tonight.”

Rachel’s eyebrows climb. “Track him…how?”

“He wasn’t specific.”

Another lie, and I don’t know why I just told it. To protect Cole? From what? Facing the reality of what he’s done?

Rachel watches me for a beat too long, and I slant my eyes to the floor.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “What else?”

“He’s in therapy. Some kind of support group. He has a sister who was hurt by someone, and he has a hard time letting go of that, so he’s in therapy.”

“And you told him to leave,” Rachel says.